Darkness to Half-Light
by these dreams go on
Summary: Post 5x18/1x19- When she has no one else in the world to turn to, Caroline comes to New Orleans to seek refuge in Klaus' arms. Klaroline
1. Chapter 1

A/N- Disclaimer I own nothing in relation to the Vampire Diaries or the Originals.

So, I wrote this after watching The Originals 1x19 and its only a few hours worth of work so its not brilliant but it has a semi happy ending.

* * *

"How ugly I must seem next to the pure and innocent glow of your precious Camille"

Camille.

That poor woman.

Truly he mourned Father Kieran's death, he had been a good man who had deserved far better than the fate he had suffered, but it wasn't Camille whose memory made Genevieve appear so disgusting by comparison.

It wasn't her image that made Klaus' skin crawl at his adultery.

Caroline.

The light that led him away from the darkness.

The standard by which he was trying to live.

When he wasn't reacting to the attacks on his kingdom, on his child, by his own siblings; he liked to ponder what his Caroline would do and follow her example.

So he suspended Marcel's exile and allowed him to comfort Camille.

He went to Hayley and ensured the child was unharmed.

And he formed yet another alliance with his brother.

But the city was on the verge of war, a path of destruction that had been taken long before he and his siblings had returned home.

And if he wanted any sort of kingdom for his future Queen and his unborn Princess, he needed to turn his gaze away from the light and revel in the darkness for a little longer.

* * *

When Caroline first set foot in the French Quarter, her discount faux-designer boots were soaked to the ankle in blood. Looking down at the red river flowing through the gutters of Bourbon Street she inhaled and, sickeningly, sighed with relief when the scent reached her nose,

Werewolf, not human and not vampire.

And it couldn't be Tyler's blood.

Or Elena's, or Stefan's, Jeremy's, Damon's, Matt's or Bonnie's for that matter.

Perhaps Enzo had been in NOLA for what she assumed had been a wholesale slaughter, he had left town prior to _the incident_ in search for his long lost love and she had contacted him afterwards with instructions to find her in the French Quarter.

With her mother's body if he could get it, but if it was too dangerous…that was okay- she would understand.

Although with Damon gone, staying safe or even alive might not be at the top of his agenda anymore.

She's not even sure why _she_ went to so much trouble to survive, why she fought back from the brink and crawled on hands and knees from the wreckage that had been her home.

Perhaps it was just habit by now, to fight like hell to go on living.

Or perhaps because she had seen a light at the end of the tunnel, a sanctuary for her to reach and a place for her to start over.

More importantly, somewhere she could recover and take the time to mourn everything she had lost.

So she paid the oblivious taxi driver with the last of her money and stepped onto the sidewalk, hoisting her duffel bag onto her shoulder- well Matt's duffel bag but he didn't need it anymore- and walked towards the heart of the touristy district.

She's glad that the heels on her boots are worn down because otherwise stepping over the dead bodies and puddles of blood and other bodily fluids would be hard work, as it is she makes it to the aptly named Abattoir with minimum fuss and wanders into a partially renovated courtyard.

She doesn't worry about enemies, traps or bad people who might attack her, most of them appear to be dead on the street outside and honestly-

What could any of them do to her that hadn't already been done?

She raises her head and gazes up at the two storey manor with multiple wings and endless rooms wondering where to start looking when a familiar vampire appears on the balcony and scans the area absentmindedly before catching sight of her.

"Hello" she smiles but he doesn't return her friendly greeting,

"_Nik__laus_!"

Caroline winces at Elijah's frantic shout, her ear drums are still sensitive after repairing and she's having trouble blocking out all the noises that plague newbie vampires.

But at least his damage to her hearing manages to bring his brother out to the balcony. Momentarily they stand side by side, looking down at her with surprise and horror before Klaus is jumping over the wooden railing and taking her small shoulders in his hands,

"Sweetheart," he whispers, "What are you doing here? What happened?"

She doesn't answer, she can't answer, not tonight…probably not ever.

Instead she slides into his embrace, laying her head on his chest and closing her eyes. He stands frozen for a moment before his arms slip around her waist and his chin rests on her blood and dirt streaked, savagely torn scalp.

A single tear trails down her cheek and she pulls away before she completely falls apart, wiping at her still healing face.

"Where's my room?" she asks quietly, slipping Matt's- _her_\- bag from her shoulder, "I…uh…want to put my stuff away please"

Klaus blinks but nods and carefully takes her hand, "Right this way love"

His usual swagger and confidence is gone but any bravado she herself once had was buried with Stefan's eyeball so she follows him up the stairs through a newly plastered hallway, still smelling of pva glue and elbow grease, with well-lit ceiling fans twirling lazily overhead to a small but elegantly furnished bedroom with a stained glass window overlooking Bourbon Street.

"The bathroom is two doors down to your left" Klaus explains as Caroline sets the bag onto the bed and unzips it, "I suppose you'll want to get cleaned up?"

Caroline frowns, "I didn't bring any clothes with me"

He opens his mouth but doesn't speak and she busies herself on unpacking the possessions she painstakingly rescued from the fire.

The scrapbooks she'd made each year since she turned fourteen, her mother's jewellery, Stefan and Elena's last diaries, Damon's favourite book, Matt's collection of mini snowballs from Europe, Bonnie's family necklace and Jeremy's sketchbook.

There's a writing desk under the window and she carefully lays the mementos out one by one, side by side, taking care to make sure Damon and Bonnie's pieces were as far away from each other as possible.

When she is done she lays down on the bed, stares up at the ceiling and doesn't move for a very long while.

* * *

_Eighteen months later_

Unfortunately, life goes on.

No matter what happens, no matter who dies and however much one might lose hope, the sun continues to rise and set with each passing day and eventually one has to open their eyes and face the world.

Though that isn't to say that it wasn't a daily, sometimes hourly, struggle to not give in to the darkness.

But days like this helped.

It was a crisp winter morning, with patches of snow scattered across the ground in dirty white clumps, threatening to catch unsuspecting pedestrians and cause injury with slipping and sliding across the icy paths, the sun was shining weakly in the sky however grey clouds were gathering on the horizon and weathermen were warning of a heavy storm late afternoon.

Thankfully everyone would be headed inside by then.

Caroline stood in the courtyard and for the hundredth time wondered if she could possibly have made the manor look more festive and welcoming. Mistletoe was hung over the stone arch entrance and at every doorway, holly garlanded the wooden railings, tied off with ribbon and golden bells. A twelve foot Christmas tree dazzled in the centre of the newly tiled space with brightly wrapped cardboard boxes nestled underneath- the real presents were inside- and decorated with a dozen different strings of fairy lights and baubles sourced from all over the city.

Several fire pits dotted the area with cauldrons of mulled wine, mead, cider and eggnog quietly bubbling away, a giant rotisserie spit was in the corner with several pounds of orange and honey glazed ham slowly roasting and giving off a delicious scent. Two long buffet tables, one with laid with crystal glasses, china plates and silver cutlery, the other with every single traditional holiday meal she could think of, were graced with pristine white table clothes laced with gold edges.

It was a stunningly picturesque tableau but until the very moment the guests began walking through the archway, Caroline would be wondering it could be improved in any way.

She's chewing one perfectly manicured and artfully painted nail when two arms wrap around her waist and pull her close to a firm chest,

"What a wonderful job you have done my Queen" a husky voice whispers in her ear, she ignores him, preferring instead to chew her lip and wonder if she should move the string quartet from the balcony to the ground floor, although if she does will the vampires think they're part of the menu?

A dry kiss is placed to the back of her neck, just above the diamond choker that hides the vicious scarring and hands slip under her white Burberry coat to the purple silk dress and reach for her breasts.

"Would you like me to give you your Christmas present early sweetheart?"

She snorts and rolls her eyes, he can tease all he wants but she knows for a fact that her present is the Hermes Red Crocodile Birkin Bag, already wrapped and hidden in his office behind a wall panel.

It was his fault really, if he'd wanted it to be a surprise he shouldn't have delegated the Christmas shopping to Josh and relied upon twenty-first century stereotypes. Josh knew as much about Hermes as he did about the KT extinction and had nearly purchased the Ginza Tanaka bag before Davina had thankfully stopped him and probably saved his life.

Klaus wouldn't have appreciated forking out two million dollars for a tiny clutch, even if it did come with a detachable diamond necklace.

He also should have known that Caroline would have Davina and Josh help her with her own Christmas shopping, the three of them having so much fun picking out the Sennelier pure pigments to purchase for the Hybrid king that Josh had unthinkingly revealed Klaus' present for her.

It was truly a miracle that such a blabber mouth had survived in the cut-throat kingdom of New Orleans.

"Caroline"

She raised her head and Klaus quickly stopped fondling her breasts, whispered a quick _'I love you'_ and released her as another miraculous tale of survival stepped into the courtyard.

Camille O'Connell.

That woman had been hunted and threatened and taken hostage so many times that eventually the power players in the Quarter had grown bored with passing her around like a human football and found other people and objects to hold for ransom. Still she had refused to leave the city and even though Marcel had been seriously contemplating turning her into a vampire just so she'd have more luck defending herself, she remained human.

Caroline admired Camille for her courage and resilience.

She smiled and hugged her as Klaus wandered off in search of Elijah and Andrea, then took her hand and led her into the manor, to the ground floor parlour to show her the olive wood nativity scene that St Anne's church had bulk ordered from Bethlehem and sold to raise money for the community. It was supposed to be a sixteen figure set but Klaus and Elijah kept using various characters as substitute chess pieces, paper weights or in truly desperate scenarios- weaponry.

"It's lovely isn't it?" Camille gushed happily, "You know when I made the suggestion to the committee they shot me down but we've raised close to five thousand dollars already"

Which was due entirely to Klaus and Marcel buying nearly every single set and donating them to various charities and orphanages, going out of the way to hide the purchases.

But Caroline didn't say anything about this.

Or about anything else at all.

She _couldn't_.

She lost her voice the night she arrived in New Orleans and had yet to find it, as it were.

So she'd lived the last two years as a functioning mute and everyone around her learned to cope, to anticipate her wants or needs or to communicate on her behalf.

Once upon a time, when Mystic Falls had been a small town and not a horror story told around supernatural campfires, when she hadn't had to open a photo album if she wanted to see the faces of her friends and family, when being a queen had been a silly fantasy and not a harsh reality, she would have felt guilty for making people go to such effort to accommodate her.

Now, on that crisp winter December day, she released Camille's hand and swept to the hallway mirror to check that her subtle apatite tiara was in place before striding back out to the courtyard and fetching herself two cups of blood.

Enzo would be arriving soon.

* * *

A/N- Admittedly I do think the writers are planning to destroy Mystic Falls at some point, even if it is only temporary. Although next season I think that the Mystic Falls gang should just abandon the town and move to Hawaii or somewhere else warm, sunny and severely lacking in evil doers.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- So I never intended for this story to be more than one chapter but it appears to be popular if the stats are anything to go by so here is Klaus' perspective.  
Warning- Angst ahead.  
More Important Warning- I'm Australian so I use Australian English in my writing, hence the perceived spelling errors.

* * *

Niklaus hesitated a few moments longer until Caroline had closed her eyes and her breathing had become even before he tentatively shut the bedroom door.

He was tempted to lock it as well, to give Caroline another defence, a shield against the world but he was certain that such an action would be misconstrued.

Elijah is waiting impatiently for him in the sunroom, pacing in front of the window, turning to him the moment he enters,

"_Well?_"

Niklaus shrugged, "I do not know, she spoke only to tell me that she had not brought any clothes, unpacked a few objects and then lay down to rest"

"She is soaked in _blood_ and missing great deals of flesh and hair Niklaus" Elijah points out,

"Really?! I didn't notice" he snaps back sarcastically, "When she wakes up we'll have her tell us everything in explicit detail"

He sits on the couch and Elijah pours them two drinks, he watches as his elder brother fights and debates with himself, finally giving in,

"Perhaps we should try and contact Elena or the Salvatore brothers?" He suggests, handing him a tumbler of bourbon, "Failing to receive a response, a trip to Mystic Falls might be in order"

More than anything else in the world, Klaus wanted to prevent his brother from setting one foot in Virginia. He wanted to hold him fast, lock him down and refuse to let him leave the manor, let alone the Quarter.

The foolish part of him that loved Caroline hoped that the predator within him, the one who had smelt corpses on her clothes, salt on her cheeks and seen Death at her shoulder had been mistaken but he knew as well as he knew the sun would set that very night that the worst had come to pass for those in Mystic Falls.

"I truly doubt she would have come to New Orleans if she had anyone else in the world left to turn to" he says as gently as possible, in the hope his elder brother would understand.

Glass protests in tensed grasp, throats run dry as the desert and eyes sting as if awash with vinegar. Lips thin into intractable lines to hold back grief, spines straighten to carry the weight of loss.

"If you are unwilling to place the calls I am more than ready to do so for the both of us"

Denial.

Denial is a wondrous, beauteous luxury, a gift of light that flickers but momentarily throughout their dark world.

He cannot spare his brother this pain, any more than he was able to spare Caroline the suffering she endured.

The only thing Niklaus can do is follow Elijah to the balcony and offer him the comfort of proximity while he presses the buttons of his phone in ten different sequences three times.

The first time with hope.

'_The number you have dialled is no longer in service' _

The second with dread.

'_The person you have called is currently unavailable, please try again'_

The third time with burgeoning grief.

'_The number you have dialled is not connected at this time' _

Is there anything to say?

My condolences?

I am sorry?

How can I alleviate your grief?

What letters could he join together to form words in a vast multitude of languages that would be of any use or offer any real comfort?

None.

So he does not try.

Niklaus claps his brother on the shoulder and leaves him to begin his mourning.

* * *

That night the manor house is quiet.

Those that still lived hesitated on the threshold, covered by the darkness of the stone arch and, perhaps sensing the grief, turned away.

Elijah retired to his room for privacy. Niklaus sat in an armchair and stared at a tome, the knowledge heavy in his lap and outdated in his brain. The lights dim around him as the clock in the hallway marked the ever forward motion of time.

Her primordial scream was the most terrifying sound Niklaus had ever heard.

He ripped her bedroom door from its hinges as he flew into the room, flashing in his speed, determined to find and eliminate the threat against his Caroline.

He finds nothing and seeks her out. Her form is thrashing wildly on the bed, tearing the sheets, her back arching as her body tries to escape the horror.

"Brother?" Elijah calls from the doorway, "Has she been cursed?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know, call Marcel- tell him to get Davina here immediately"

Niklaus climbs onto the bed and hesitates as she releases another wail that chilled him to the core, when he tries to catch her legs she flails and her arms fly out, cracking the bed head and knocking a lamp to the floor.

His decision made, he steels himself and works his way up the bed, trying to avoid her arms and legs as he moved. Sitting back against the bed head he reaches down and gathers Caroline up into his embrace, holding her firm against his chest, one arm around her stomach, the other around her neck to prevent her from bucking him.

"Sweetheart" he says firmly as she screeches, "Sweetheart it is Klaus…don't worry you're safe"

She wrestles against his hold, throwing her head back and catching him in the jaw, blood fills his mouth as her nails come up and rip at his arms.

"Wake-up Caroline" he orders, "Wake-up now!"

She does not but becomes even more violent, her scream ripping apart the night and cursing the fates and deities that allowed such anguish to be known.

Every decibel, every batter of her limbs and every slice of her nails tears the threads of Niklaus' sanity and drive him to the madness that brings his fangs bursting from his gums and piercing into her soft flesh.

The clock begins to mark midnight, dolling as the venom seeps into her veins, intruding on the blood that keeps her living and gleefully poisoning every cell in her body.

As the clock strikes for the twelfth and final time Caroline falls silent.

As limp and lifeless as a doll she falls back onto the ruined bed, her eyes glazed and unseeing, her mouth open but no breath coming from her lungs.

Niklaus brushes the hair from her face and whispers gentle words to her around the blood filling his mouth and dribbling down his chin, but she does not respond.

For an entire week she does not respond but lays unmoving on the bed, weighted down and imprisoned in her grief and memories. She does not desiccate, Niklaus would never allow that, he injects her with blood every day so that when she finally chooses to awaken, she will have the option of doing so.

Elijah disappears one Wednesday night and returns one Thursday morning.

He never speaks of what he saw and Niklaus does not ask.

He does make note of the black lace that covers the mirrors in the house, the black ribbon on the exterior doors and the black ink that adorns Elijah's ring finger.

_Katerina Petrova_.

In his own way, Niklaus mourns her too. She was a constant and in this life of immortality, even those which are semi-permanent are valued.

Caroline rises one Sunday.

She sinks into a bathtub and washes the filth from her body.

She rises from the steaming water like Venus from the waves, standing and waiting patiently whilst Niklaus tears about the house to find her clothes to wear.

He averts his eyes as he wraps a towel around her slender form and slips the clothes over her head.

He does not want to look upon her when she is broken but he wonders if he should ever live to see her fixed?

That first day, he shows her the manor, leading her tenderly by the hand because when he does not she does not move but waits patiently for him to return to her side.

She does not speak that first day but he does not worry, she is traumatised he tells himself, she still needs time to recover.

She does not speak the second day.

Or the twelfth.

Or the twenty-second.

He summons Davina who swears that she is not hexed.

He invites Camille who thinks she is not insane.

He pays doctors who offer him a range of diagnoses.

Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder.

Nervous Breakdown.

Selective mutism.

As none of them have cures he thanks none of them and takes Caroline back to the manor, leading her by the hand, stroking her smooth palm with his calloused, unworthy thumb.

It is the invasion of the unwanted that brings a modicum of hope for the future.

This creature, this vampire but not-vampire. A man outside of time and outside of fear.

Lorenzo.

He appears in the courtyard one morning out of the mist and dew.

He is loud in a house that has grown accustomed to silence.

Niklaus is headed to the stairs when Caroline pushes past him under her own agency, clambering down the wooden blocks still in the white dressing gown he had tied about her waist twelve hours before.

It falls off her shoulders, baring daring inches of her unblemished back as she hurls herself across the stones and into the thick arms of this stranger.

Splinters and fine dust in Niklaus' hands.

Still she does not speak. This man does not succeed where Niklaus has failed but he yet earns his keep.

His presence triggers Caroline to consideration of motion.

She dresses herself in the morning.

She seeks her own sustenance and moves about freely.

She watches the events unfolding around her and begins to show signs of curiosity.

When the barest hint of feelings that are not born in grief start to take root in her heart she develops means of communication for the world at large.

She laughs when she is truly amused.

She smiles when she is moved.

Though she never weeps.

One night when the desire takes her, she follows Niklaus to his bedroom, undresses and climbs into his bed.

She accepts his murmurs of love as she does his head upon her breast, his whispers of devotion but any plea for her to speak and she will slip from the bed, dress, leave and refuse to return for three nights.

He learns not to ask for anything more than she can give.

He learns to be patient.

He offers her his kingdom and his world and waits to see what she chooses to pick and discard.

Andrea visits her once and is ignored.

Hope is held once and thereafter the threshold of her nursery never again crossed.

Lorenzo is designated a room in the manor and the freedom to come and go as he wishes.

Josh is granted repetitive pardons for his transgressions.

Camille is invited for weekly trips to the cinema or theatre.

Niklaus is given her body and he has to believe- otherwise he shall be lost- her love.

She becomes known as _La Reine Sans Voix_.

* * *

But one does not need their voice to render those about them speechless with admiration.

The first Christmas since her arrival, her first Christmas in the Quarter, her light starts to glow as she takes in the celebration of the world around them.

By her second Christmas she is once again shining brightly as she flits about New Orleans, the very symbol of cheer and goodwill.

Niklaus cannot help but kiss her every time he sees her smile, he is determined to drink joy from her lips and resurrect his long dead soul.

One kiss becomes one hundred and one touch becomes one thousand in a long night of ecstasy as they ring in the holiday.

And as he drifts off to sleep with his head on her breast, thoroughly content with his place in the world and her fingers playing with his hair, he could almost swear that she begins to hum.

The black lace is never removed from the mirrors. It lingers there to this day.

* * *

La Reine Sans Voix- French for 'The Queen without Voice'

Let me know what you think. All comments welcome.


	3. AUTHORS NOTE

**Hello Everyone!**

**First let me say that I am thrilled with the positive response to this story, I wrote the first chapter on a whim after catching up on the episode of the Originals **

**where Genevieve utters the only lines I have her speak in the piece. I added a second chapter when asked to flesh it out further but I'm afraid there won't be a **

**third chapter. I would love nothing more than to make this a ten chapter work but I wouldn't be able to without giving Caroline and Klaus a blissfully happy ending **

**and I titled this Darkness to Half-light because after everything that Caroline suffered, she wouldn't truly ever fully recover from the shock and horror but would **

**have to move on slowly and learn to cope in her own way. I don't think I would be able to portray that without at least another two chapters which would **

**essentially be far too similar to the first two and cheapen the story telling experience for lack of a better term.**

**So I thank all of you for reading and apologise but I'm afraid that this is the end.**


End file.
